Subterfuge
by Bespectacled
Summary: Post Turnabout Serenade, Klavier is not happy. He's even less happy when it turns out that Ema can see right through him.


**Subterfuge**

Klavier Gavin lay back in his chair, his acoustic guitar in his hands. He rested his feet on his desk, absent-mindedly running his fingertips across the frets.

There was a knock at the door.

"Ja?"

Detective Ema Skye entered, her usual grumpy self. "Here, you need to sign a few things off."

He nodded sharply. "You may go." He replied coldly.

She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, I can't. I need to file those documents once you've signed them."

"Later."

"No, now."

He looked at her coldly, a deathglare if ever there was one.

This would've worked, had she not had to put up with worse from her sister over the past few years.

"Now, Gavin."

His glare intensified, but this only resulted in her raising her eyebrows. "Detective. I am not in the mood. Please. Leave."

"You seem to only have three settings." She moved from the doorframe to his desk, perching herself on the end, looking down at his feet. "Your shoes need to be polished."

"Three...settings?"

She held up three fingers. "One – most often seen, charming, playful, flirtatious rockstar slash prosecutor star." One finger waggled. "Two – rarer, but still worthy of note, angry, angry man, seen in court when things start to go the wrong way for you, and backstage when your roadies have made the slightest mistake." The second finger waggled. "And third, a new addition to the list – emotionless and cold." The third finger waggled.

"You only recognise it in me because you are the same way." He snapped.

She nodded. "True."

He was taken aback – he had expected her to revert to her usual fiery self, fighting angrily with him. But no, she appeared to be very accepting of the judgement.

"So, take it from a pro. You can't feel this way all the time." She was meeting his eyes. "You can let it out, if you want."

He raised his eyebrows. "To you? You do not like me..."

She dropped his gaze, almost playfully, shaking her head. "No, no. You irritate me, but I don't dislike you."

"But you do not respond to my flirtations..." He replied, shocked.

She laughed, looking up at him again, a slight blush on her cheeks. "That doesn't mean I dislike you, it just means I'm a professional." She replied pointedly, but not as cruelly as he would've expected.

"So, perhaps, out of work, you would be more receptive, ja?" He smirked.

"Perhaps." She hopped down from the desk. "If I thought you were being sincere."

She moved to the side of his chair, leaning over the back of it, her face hovering over his. She grinned, her hair falling onto his guitar. "I'm willing to give you a chance."

He looked up at her, enjoying the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, before something clicked in his mind. "Is this just to distract me from my troubles?"

"It worked, didn't it?" She straightened up, attempting to fix her hair but soon giving up. "Sign the papers, Gavin."

She moved back to the desk, picking up his acoustic as he did – at least she cradled it in her arms with some respect as he finally moved to sign the papers. He glanced up, seeing her leaning on his desk, absent mindedly strumming.

"You play?"

"Not even a little bit." She smiled. "But I might learn one day."

"Perhaps I will teach you." He turned back to the form.

"That could be nice." She agreed, strumming again, moving one hand up the neck of the guitar, pressing down a couple of strings and strumming again.

Klavier made a face. "Please, fräulein, wait until I have given you a lesson. I have perfect pitch – off notes...hurt."

She wasn't entirely sure she believed him, but stopped attempting to play chords. She watched him signing everything, and when he was done she beamed at him, standing properly again. "Your guitar."

"Your report." He pushed it across the desk, receiving the guitar into his arms as if it was an infant.

She smiled warmly. "You feel better?"

He shrugged. "Dinner would be the only way to tell." He smiled enigmatically.

She sighed. "Just when I thought I'd got through to the real you."

His grin spread across his entire face. "Nein, fräulein, you have. The real me wishes to take you out to dinner."

She gathered the file into her arms. "Tomorrow night. Pick me up at 6, and don't pretend you don't know where I live, I know the kind of privileges you get." She paused. "I also have to get something back after the way you humiliated me in court. Just because you're paying doesn't mean I owe you anything."

"But of course." He nodded. "I would expect little else from you."

He could've sworn she winked as she disappeared through the door.

_**A/N: How is it I can rattle these things off very quickly, but whenever I needed to write a big ol' essay the talent escapes me? Bah. Anyway. I clearly own neither of these lovely characters. It's set after Turnabout Serenade (possibly my favourite turnabout?) **_

_** I'm excessively tempted to write a sequel, but we'll see...  
**_


End file.
